


Best Kept Hidden

by Hannaadi88



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, PWP, Sorry Not Sorry, UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannaadi88/pseuds/Hannaadi88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur knew he shouldn't have told him about his thing for jeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Kept Hidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [efficaciousicarus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=efficaciousicarus).
  * Inspired by [Halo](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/66897) by RavenMushroom. 



It had been Alfred’s jeans that did it. Arthur’s last straw.

He had made the mistake of admitting to Alfred during a night at the bar that there was nothing that turned him on more than a well-fitting pair of trousers on a man. They were playing the kind of game you played on first dates, trading quick questions to gauge each other to the best of their abilities in the limited time they had.

Only, this was their twentieth date, and not much of a date at that. Alfred had sauntered up to the bar a full half hour before Arthur’s shift was supposed to have ended. The night was slow, though, which cut Arthur’s rant to a mere grumble as he served his boyfriend a Carlsberg. Playing a game with Alfred was the most action he had gotten the whole night.

Seeing that they had spent a fair share of time together, the game was rather pointless. Arthur already knew where Alfred had gone for high school and how he liked his morning coffee. It was only when he had answered the other’s question and saw the look of utter surprise on his face that Arthur realized that he must have said something new.

“What?” he frowned, picking up Alfred’s empty glass and walking over to the sink to wash it.

“Dude, you aren’t serious!”

Arthur shot Alfred a nasty look over his shoulder. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make fun of me.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” Alfred exclaimed and leaned over the bar, resting his palms on the countertop. Arthur inwardly flinched- he’d have to wipe it off _again_ before his shift was over.

“It’s just that...I never knew you liked jeans!”

“Well now you do,” Arthur stated sharply, turning around fully to face the other man. The glass in his hand had been dry for the past minute or so, but that didn’t stop him from rubbing it with his towel as he watched Alfred warily. He shouldn’t have said anything, if this was how Alfred was going to take it. Had he honestly never considered the notion that some people find a certain type of trousers appealing?

“This is great!”

Arthur blinked. His hand paused mid-motion. “Come again?”

Alfred gave him one of his wide, blinding smiles. “I said this is great!”

“Oh.” Arthur considered Alfred’s enthusiasm for a moment, unsure of how to respond to it. In the end, he came out with a hesitant smile. “That’s good then, I suppose.”

“It’s great,” Alfred repeated. He winked at Arthur before sliding off of his barstool and turning to go.

Arthur set the glass down on the counter. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I have an errand to run!”

“But we have a date tonight!”

Alfred turned halfway to shoot him a reassuring grin. “Gonna have to take a rain check. See you around!”

And with the slam of the closing door, Arthur’s life became a living hell.

.x.

Hell is a relative term. Some people believe that hell consists of blazing red fire which will burn your flesh. Others insist that hell is a frozen desert of ice. The belief that hell was one big Spanish Inquisition was a popular one.

Personally, Arthur thought that hell didn’t have to inflict pain in order to cause misery. Temptation was the name of the game, especially when it was snatched away from you before you could indulge yourself.

That was what Arthur’s life looked like ever since his slip of tongue at the bar. Alfred must have bought a whole new wardrobe, since Arthur had never seen the clothing he sported to their dates from then on. The button-ups and rolled sleeves were a sizable improvement from his usual t-shirts, but his trousers...

As Alfred would have eloquently phrased it: hot _damn_.

Gone were the comfy sweatpants and the loose denim jeans. Instead, Alfred appeared in attractively snug trousers every time Arthur would see him. His boyfriend’s legs had never looked longer or his calves more shapely formed. His thighs were absolutely magnificent.

His best asset by far, of course, was his voluptuously curved backside. Arthur could practically see every inch of those marvelous globes when he managed a discreet look. It took every restraint he had not to reach out and hold them in his palms.

Alfred knew what he was doing, of course, the smug bastard. He was fully aware of Arthur’s wandering eyes if his self-satisfied smirk was anything to go by. Yet he never mentioned his change of style aside from acknowledging Arthur’s compliments, and Arthur was _not_ going to bring it up. Not after last time.

Gazing at Alfred’s lower half was a treat on its own right. Arthur could easily spend hours staring, no problem. Was this the so called torture?

No. The torture was that he wasn’t allowed to do anything _but_ stare.

Offers of going up to his apartment after their date would be answered with an apologetic smile and some sort of excuse. “I have work tomorrow” or “I’m kinda tired” were words Arthur frequently heard before being kissed goodbye. Even during heavy make-out sessions, the moment Arthur would attempt to unbuckle the other’s belt, Alfred’s hand would stop him and a gruff “hands off the merchandise” would ward him off.

In short, Arthur was slowly (torturously) being driven mad by Alfred’s refusal. He simply couldn’t understand it. Alfred had never been chaste with him before. Arthur knew where everything was in Alfred’s bedroom. The amount of times Arthur had seen Alfred naked proceeded the number of dates they had gone on.

Why wouldn’t he allow himself to be touched? Surely he must feel the need as badly as Arthur did?

“Are you seeing someone else?”

Alfred choked on his beer. Arthur watched impassively as Alfred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he set his bottle down on the coffee table and turned to look at him with his brows raised high up his forehead.

“Say what?”

“I asked,” Arthur repeated firmly, “if you are seeing someone else.”

“Shit, Arthur, where did that come from?”

Arthur raised his chin. “Answer the question.”

Alfred frowned and shook his head. “Of course I’m not. I’m not a cheater! Why would you think that?”

“I, well...” Arthur’s shoulders sagged. He looked away from Alfred’s piercing blue gaze, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. His eyes came to rest on the neglected bottle and he recalled the night at the bar when Alfred had cancelled their date and rushed from the room.

The indignity of it all forced his gaze back at Alfred and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t the one who should be feeling guilty. He had every reason to doubt the man he called his boyfriend.

“You won’t sleep with me,” he stated unblinkingly.

If he hadn’t been so pissed off with the whole situation, Arthur would have found the myriad of expressions flickering across Alfred’s face to be endearing. Actually, he did. He wouldn’t let Alfred’s flustered babbling or flushed face soften his resolve.

Well, maybe just a bit. He still wanted to fuck him, though.

“You--!” Alfred was clearly (perhaps for the first time since Arthur had met him) at a loss for words. Once realizing that he would not be making any points verbally for the near future, Alfred resorted for aiming a strong kick at Arthur’s shin. Arthur cried out and folded his knee to his chest, rubbing the injured spot while glaring at the other reproachfully.

“What was that for?”

“That’s for fucking with me like that. You don’t just say- oh, my god. You just did not.”

Arthur sighed. For all of his oblivious bluntness at times, Alfred didn’t handle directness very well. “I was just answering your question.”

“Still,” Alfred huffed, running his fingers through his hair. “Ugh, whatever. Point is, I’m _not_ cheating on you, okay? If I had known you’d think that, I wouldn’t have...well...”

That caught Arthur’s attention. His shin forgotten, he leaned forward on the couch, inching closer to the other man. “Well...?”

“I was just messing with you,” Alfred admitted, smiling shyly up at him as he sat back against the pillows. “I wanted to see how long you’d last before tearing these jeans you love so much off of me.”

Arthur stared unbelievingly down at Alfred. He had gone two weeks without sex just so Alfred could test his resolve?

A slow smirk spread across his face as Arthur trapped Alfred’s body beneath him. He leaned down to trace the shell of Alfred’s ear with his tongue.

“Game over, love,” he exhaled over the damp trail.

Alfred shivered and reached up to wrap his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. His legs crossed over Arthur’s waist, pulling Alfred’s body close enough to rub their crotches together.

“It’s about time, old man.”

With a growl, Arthur leaned back and seated himself properly on the couch, forcing Alfred squarely onto his lap. Alfred ground down against him as they locked lips, craning their necks to meet each other halfway every time they pulled back for a breath of air. Arthur’s hands moved up and down Alfred’s back, digging into the fabric of his shirt before shifting to Alfred’s chest.

“...Get rid of this ruddy shirt,” Arthur muttered over Alfred’s throat as he pressed a quick kiss to the delicate skin. He could feel Alfred’s groan vibrate against his lips. His fingers, meanwhile, fumbled with the buttons of the other’s shirt.

For the first time ever, he wished Alfred had gone back to wearing t-shirts.

Alfred’s fingers carded through Arthur’s hair as he worked on Alfred’s buttons, exclaiming in victory as the last one had been yanked out of its hole and now freed Alfred’s chest to Arthur’s whims. Arthur began a trail of biting, short kisses from Alfred’s Adam’s Apple down to his collarbone, lathing the red skin with his tongue after every bite.

He pulled back to watch with fascination at the trail he had left. He couldn’t wait to see how the bites would bloom in the morning. They would prove, after weeks of abstinence, that the most gorgeous man in the world was his once more.

“Arthur!”

Alfred’s voice was thick with desire as he called his name, and Arthur couldn’t help but raise his head to bite those plump, luscious lips. He sucked the lower lip between his teeth as he could feel Alfred’s nails digging into his back.

His own hands worked quickly to pull Alfred’s shirt off, now that he could do so without ripping something (as if he had the strength to actually rip fabric apart in his passion. Alfred probably did, though). With a bare back for his pleasure, Arthur pulled Alfred in a close embrace, resting his chin on Alfred’s shoulder as he mouthed at the column of his neck. His hands traveled all over the man’s back, lightly scratching white lines which quickly faded into the sunkissed skin.

Arthur’s hands travelled lower and lower until they reached the hem of Alfred’s trousers. With no belt in sight, ridding Alfred of his jeans would be an easy task.

If he let him, that is.

Before he did so, though, Arthur still had a fantasy he had been waiting far too long to realize. Feeling quite hot beneath the collar, he reached even lower and curved his palms over Alfred’s arse, cupping him through the fabric of the jeans. He could hear Alfred chuckling in his ear, but Arthur didn’t care- it felt even _better_ than he had imagined.

“If only I could fuck you in these jeans,” he murmured, awe stricken.

Alfred shimmied against his palms. “These cost way too much to cut a hole through them. You can still fuck me, though.”

It was a matter of minutes for Arthur to push Alfred off onto his back and rid him of both his trousers and pants. Alfred helped him with his own belt, undoing the clasp as Arthur yanked his shirt over his head. He couldn’t pull his own undergarments off fast enough.

Seeing Alfred bare and erect beneath him was always a treat, no matter how many times they did this. Arthur leaned down to mesh their lips together as he wrapped his palm around Alfred’s cock, giving it a few firm strokes.

Alfred curved into the touch and bucked his hips. “‘feels so good,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Better than my hand.”

Arthur smirked. “You would not have needed your hand if you would have let me do this earlier.”

Alfred cracked an eye open and smiled at him sheeply. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be fun-oh!”

Arthur squeezed the shaft and rolled the pad of his thumb over the head.

“You promise not to tease me like that again?”

“Are you kidding me? Your face that one time was priceless! Hey!” Alfred protested as Arthur pulled his hand away.

Arthur arched a brow. “If you want, I can leave.”

They both knew that wouldn’t happen. One look down at Arthur’s throbbing cock would tell a vastly different story than his face. Still, Alfred let out a resigned sigh and flopped back down on the pillow.

“Fine, whatever. I swear I won’t do that again.”

“Good.”

Arthur resumed his rubbing, this time adding his own length as a delicious addition. The feel of Alfred’s warm skin against his own and the friction as Alfred’s hand joined his in their mutual stroking was wonderfully delectable, if not a bit too rough. There wasn’t enough bodily fluids between them.

“Lube,” Alfred demanded, pulling away. He grinned up sweetly at Arthur, who was sporting a dejected frown. “And a condom, while you’re at it.”

Arthur pulled back as well and climbed off the couch, grumbling. Alfred knew exactly how to make him do his bidding. The boy was just lucky that Arthur wanted the same thing, this time. Or so he told himself. He’d go out and buy Alfred a chocolate bar at the closest kiosk right then and there if he looked at him with those eyes again.

A quick trip upstairs (he should start stocking his living room if this was going to happen more often) provided him with a brand new bottle of lube and a handful of condoms. Just in case.

Alfred looked at the pile dubiously as Arthur placed it on the coffee table. “How long do you think we’re gonna last?”

“Well,” Arthur drawled as he seated himself back on the couch, opening the bottle and ripping off the foil, “we have two weeks to make up for, do we not?”

Alfred rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle from Arthur’s hands. “Let me do this. Just put on the condom.”

The condom was rolled on fairly quickly, which allowed Arthur enough time to watch as Alfred leaned back and spread his legs. His eyes followed Alfred’s forefinger, which was thickly coated and busy circling its owner’s entrance. At last, the muscles appeared to relax somewhat, and Alfred pushed the finger in, breathing steadily.

Two, and eventually three fingers made their way in and out of Alfred’s body until he deemed himself well prepared. Wiping his fingers against his thigh, Alfred gestured for Arthur to come close with a sensual ‘come hither’ smile.

“Now it’s your turn.”

Arthur grabbed the bottle and squirted a generous amount onto his palm before setting it aside. He wrapped his hand around his shaft as he pumped it a few times, coating it with a thick layer of lube. All the while, he kept his eyes trained on Alfred’s flushed face.

It truly had been too long.

Having sex on the couch with Alfred wasn’t the most comfortable thing Arthur had ever done (no pun intended). The cushions didn’t put up enough resistance and Arthur would find his knees sinking whenever he snapped his hips forward. Alfred clung to him heavily and Arthur was honestly having trouble catching his breath, but he didn’t dare stop. He didn’t particularly care for Alfred to call him an ‘old man’ while he was pushing him into oblivion.

Alfred did feel good, though, which made the whole difference between a good and a bad lay. His body was warm and slick and more than once Arthur found himself pausing while completely sheathed, simply enjoying the feel of being enveloped so tightly. The friction of Alfred’s cock bobbing against his stomach was an added bonus- his hands were far too busy supporting the man’s hips.

“Hey Arthur,” Alfred panted, diverting Arthur’s attention from the lower half of his body. Arthur snapped his head up and watched, temporarily sidetracked by how Alfred bit his lip with every thrust. Arthur wanted to bite it again.

Alfred licked it, though, and smiled up at him enchantingly. “I was just thinking… if we had babies, they’d definitely have your eyes. They’re beautiful.”

Caught unawares, Arthur just gaped down at Alfred before a fond smile shaped his lips. “Don’t be daft, Alfred. I’m wearing a condom.”

Alfred’s laugh quickly turned into a drawn out moan. “Fuck. Get a move on it.”

For all of his bravado, Arthur was the first to finish. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt the familiar build up in his abdomen and he knew that he was close. Digging his nails into Alfred’s flesh, he sheathed himself completely in Alfred’s body. Arthur pulled him close and came with a shudder and a low groan.

Arthur vaguely felt a pair of arms wrap around his back and hold him close.  Once the world came back into focus, he began to pull away but was promptly stopped by those hands.

“Wait a sec, will you?”

He waited obediently as one of the hands slide off of his shoulder down into the space between them, grabbing a hold of what looked like a painful erection. A few quick jerks and thrusts against Arthur later, Alfred stiffened and cried out as a ribbon of white splattered across their stomachs. Falling back down against the pillows, Alfred allowed his other hand to drop.

“Okay. Now you can pull out.”

Arthur leaned down to peck Alfred’s forehead as he slid out of his body and pulled off the condom. He tied it and placed it carefully on the coffee table, next to the large pile of glittering foil.

So much for multiple rounds. All he wanted to do now was drag Alfred up to his bed and sleep.

He couldn’t find it in him to push off of the couch, though. In the end, Arthur settled for leaning back against the armrest and pulling Alfred on him, fitting the man’s head against his sternum. Alfred rubbed his cheek against his chest absently as they tried to find the most comfortable fit.

Arthur’s eyes were slowly closing, but his fingers didn’t stop their slow movements in Alfred’s hair. Honestly, his boyfriend had the softest hair he had ever had the pleasure of stroking. He’d have to ask him what shampoo he used…

Maybe they’d play the question game again when they woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was a nice change of pace from what I usually write! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
> 
> (if you'd like to follow me on tumblr, here is the link to my blog. I'd be happy to answer questions and accept prompts!
> 
> http://hannaadi88.tumblr.com/)


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